


Potential and Obsession

by Rainy182



Series: Tumblr Saw It First [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Mob, BAMF Stiles, Blood and Gore, Like Stiles is pretty much Peter and vice versa, M/M, Manipulative Peter, Murder Husbands, Star-crossed, Unreliable Narrator, they are ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 11:27:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17385626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainy182/pseuds/Rainy182
Summary: When the divorce papers were presented to Stiles on a cold September morning he was silent, his brows furrowed as he reads the first page. As he keeps reading through the stack of paper his fist clench and knuckles whiten. Once he had read the last page the man leaned back in his chair, the harsh sunlight coming the corner window revealing his tight scowl.The lawyer who was the one to serve the papers already knew what the page contained, the “request to divorce  Mieczyslaw  Stilinski - Hale”, watched all of this silently. His eyes flickering from Stiles’ tightly balled hand to the shiny gun that sits ominously on the desk next to a bottle of whiskey. The older man can feel a layer of sweat developing on the back of his neck as he tried to slow down the shallow breaths that escape his mouth.“You’re not Peter’s usual lawyer,” Stiles quietly says his tone menacing and sneering.Now translated intoRussianbyNegative_one!!





	Potential and Obsession

**Author's Note:**

> My attempt at the murder husband trope!
> 
>  
> 
> [Russian Translation!!](https://ficbook.net/readfic/8007854)

_ Now _

When the divorce papers were presented to Stiles on a cold September morning he was silent, his brows furrowed as he reads the first page. As he keeps reading through the stack of paper his fist clench and knuckles whiten. Once he had read the last page the man leaned back in his chair, the harsh sunlight coming the corner window revealing his tight scowl. 

 

The lawyer who was the one to serve the papers already knew what the page contained, the “request to divorce  Mieczyslaw Stilinski - Hale”, watched all of this silently. His eyes flickering from Stiles’ tightly balled hand to the shiny gun that sits ominously on the desk next to a bottle of whiskey. The older man can feel a layer of sweat developing on the back of his neck as he tried to slow down the shallow breaths that escape his mouth. 

 

“You’re not Peter’s usual lawyer,” Stiles quietly says his tone menacing and sneering. 

 

The lawyer for his credit only has a slight tremble to his voice when he answers, “No sir. His usual is currently out sick.” 

 

The man gives a mocking laugh before he quickly picks up his gun, aims and cocks it in all on fluid moment. Siles tilts his head to the side, the light of the setting sun shifting with it, causing his features to warp. His cheeks more hollow and his eyes hidden by the shadows of the room. But the gun, it shines brightly in the light, the barrel becoming the only focus in the room for the lawyer. 

 

“No,” Stiles says with a chuckle, “Jackson isn’t out sick. My husband just didn’t want to have to get a new lawyer.” 

 

The lawyers eyes widen before he makes an attempt to turn around, his body twisting in panic to make his way towards the door. But before he could even make his first step towards the door a gunshot echoed deafeningly throughout the warehouse. The thump of a body hitting the floor followed soon after, like lightning following thunder. When Stiles slowly stands up and walks around his desk to make is way towards the cooling body he lowers his gun to his side. 

 

Looking down at the pool of dark crimson liquid pool on the floor Stiles blinks unhurriedly. His jaw is still clenched however when the sound of heels become lowder and lowder as Lydia appoches.  She scans the mess with purse lips, completely blase to what she was seeing, before she lets out a sigh as she crosses her arms. 

 

“I take it that it wasn’t good news,” she says rhetorically. 

 

Stiles finally looks up from the body laying face down on the floor, his eyes black with a spiral of gold spinning clockwise. The sun was relinquishing out its last orange glow, rapidly fading from view as the room was filling with darkness. The only light coming from the light of the hallway. 

 

“Find Peter,” Stiles said quietly.

 

Lydia nods silently before turning to walk back out the room, her phone out already sending out the message, and ignoring the sound of screams and broken glass coming from the office she just left.

 

_ Anyone who brings in Peter Hale gets $500,000. _

 

* * *

  
  


Before Stiles and Peter joined the families there was no love between the two names, back then they were a part of rivaling families, the Hales and the Stinikisi’s. The Hales were originally from Great Britain and had moved to present day California in the early 1800’s they regulated the flow of the gold rush and who was allowed to work where with an iron grip. Being werewolves only helped their business.  Then then California joined the United States and the family had to go underground, their business focus moving to sex and drugs. They practically owned the state by the early 1900’s. 

 

Then the Stinikisi’s migrated to California from Poland in 1918. By 1919 the family matriarch had successfully campaigned the abolishment of alcohol. By January 1st, 1920 the Stinikisi had the biggest illegal underground liquor manufacturer and distributor. They also managed to build a gambling empire that remained unaffected by the Depression and to this day stays strong. 

 

After time went on, the families both soon decided to claim to California, their fight hidden among the The Zoot Riots that had happened around them. But in the end the Hales managed to maintain everything north of Beacon Hills and the Stilniki’s kept everything south along with portions of Arizona. The settled on Beacon Hills being neutral to their business, although both families elected to continue living there.  

 

And it remained that way for generations until the Stiles met Peter. Or well, when Peter met Stiles depending on how you look at it. 

 

* * *

 

_ Now _

 

Peter was in Nevada City. 

 

Stiles would’ve laughed it was funny, but as it stands he’s still angry and it shows when he strides towards the older man who sits among a crowd of people laughing. As if a crowd would prevent the dark mage from killing every single one of them to prove a point. As if Stiles wouldn’t burn down this city- both in California and Nevada- if it means he’ll be bringing Peter back home to Beacon Hills.  

 

The group quiets down when Stiles arrives, all of them looking at him with wide eyes and what Peter can scent, a scent of fear. The older man rolls his eyes before turning to his husband with with a sharp smile and mirthful aura around him.    

 

“I see you killed James,” Peter hears a small gasp come from the blond who sits next to him. _ A mother, three kids, and good at her retail job. She’d be missed. Noticed. Not her.  _

 

“Yeah well,” Stiles replies with forced cheer, “shoot the messenger and all that.” 

 

“That’s not what they say Mieczyslaw,” the tone of Peter’s reply letting everyone around them know that the two had, had this talk before. 

 

“You can tell me all about what they say on the way home,” his tone sobering and suggesting that Stiles was done pretending. 

 

_ He was never good with long cons _ was Peter’s immediate thought before he leaned back in his chair, “No.” 

 

“You’re too old to be throwing a tantrum Peter,” was all Stiles said before turning around and making his way back towards the banged up blue jeep that’s parked across the street. 

 

Being completely honest Peter thought the mage would spend more time trying to convince the wolf before going to go lick his wounds for the day. He can’t help but feel disdain towards how easily he gave up and he lets his thoughts wander towards the next ploy that he can use to get a rise out of his boy.  _ Since a request for a divorce obviously didn’t work _ , he thinks as he looks at his bare ring finger. 

 

The man looks over at the pretty blond that he dismissed for murder earlier, and he looked at her under a new light.   _ Single mom, parents are two states over, and she used to be an addict. I can make that work.  _ He had just opened his mouth to comment some cheesy one liner when he felt the burn of a rope make its way around his neck cutting him off, then he feels the burn of the rope and the smell of wolfsbane fills his nose. He lets his fangs drop in anger and eyes flash dark red.

 

The sound of screams filled the wolf's ears as the group he was sitting with are now backing away in fear, their gaze going from him to the person behind him. When Peter twist around to see the  _ soon to be dead person _ who decided to lasso his neck, he is met with a manic looking Stiles. The mage holds the end of the rope in one hand, the rope tightly wrapped around his fist, and the other hand holds out a gun pointed towards the group of people who are now huddled together in terror. 

 

He’s hot as fuck to Peter. Pissed off like this and one wrong word from committing murder. 

 

“Hey baby,” Stiles starts off, “Figured if you wanted to act like a child, you might need some guidance like one.” When he finishes talking he yanks the rope, pulling Peter out of his seat and focing the man to walk towards Stiles. 

 

“Don’t make me get mean Peter,” the mage whispers when Peter is standing close to him, before turning back to the crowd and shooting each person calm and precise. But before he can shot the blond Peter grabs his hand and forces him to lower his gun. 

 

“Can she live? Please?” When Stiles’ eyes ignite in jealousy Peter feels his stomach warm in pleasure at getting what he wants. Stiles undivided attention.  Let him think Peter is having an affair with the woman, let him think this is why he received divorce papers yesterday, let him think Peter has gone love sick on some dumb woman from fucking Nevada City. 

 

Stiles turns completely to Peter, his face void of emotion as he looks at the wolf, he watches as Peter searches his eyes with a look of desperation. A look that used to be just for him. So he gives an empty smile and leans in to gives Peter a slow forceful kiss. 

 

“Sure Peter,” Stiles whispers against his lips, “She can live.”

 

* * *

 

_Twenty Years Ago_

 

Peter gave Stiles his first courting gift when the boy was exactly that,  _ a fifteen year old boy _ . He saw the boy in the historical downtown district. He watched as the tall lanky freckled covered teen talked with what looked like the human of a puppy.  _ Scott _ , Peter would later learn. Peter didn’t believe in love, and still doesn’t, but he believes in potential and in obsession. Stiles had potential, and the wolf knew the boy would soon be his obsession. 

 

So he killed Stiles high school tormentor Greenberg, ripped his heart out and leaves it on Stiles doorstep. He should’ve recognized the house when he left the heart, smelt the gunpowder and liquor thats a trademark on John Stilinski because he’s a Stilinski, not because he’s a drunk.  But Peter was too focused on properly leaving a courting gift that he doesn’t recognize at  _ whose _ house he actually left a bloody heart at. He almost causes another war between the families. Even had to deal with a few broken bones delivered from Talia as a punishment because of it. However it was all worth it when the very next week Stiles shows up to his job, sits down with a smile and says, “So do you kill for all the boys you’re interested in?” 

 

A sharp dark grin overtakes Peter’s face, “Only you darling.”

 

* * *

 

_ Now _

 

They’ve been back in Beacon Hills for almost twenty-four hours and they’ve yet to leave basement. Lydia would be worried but every now and then Stiles would come up for fresh air covered in blood with a smile that was more genuine each time. So she let’s it rest. Well, not at first, at first she questions. 

 

“You kill him?” Lydia asked in shock when he first came up from the basement with blood splattered over his face and a grim look. But Hell could’ve frozen over when the glare he swung her way, and all though she knew he wouldn't hurt her - as long as it’s not down to her and Peter - fear trickled down her spin. 

 

“Never mind,” she said and turns back to the computer in front of her, she ignored the scoff that Stiles replied when. She ignored when he walks past her again, and ignored the screams she hears when he opens the soundproof door to the basement.  

 

But it’s been almost a full day since they’ve entered the basement, Peter bound in rope and a woman unconscious being dragged by the hair, and almost five hours since Stiles has taken his last torture break. However before she could make up her mind of if she wanted to go down their on them and check to see if they were alright the basement door opened again. Except this time Peter walks out, his chest bare of clothes and pants hanging low. When she looks to his arms she notices how the bare skin fades into a sleeve of dark dried blood, every inch covered in it, except the gold band that somehow shines through the thick of the liquid.  

 

“I see you put back on the ring,” she says simply. 

 

“Yeah, we had some counseling,” Peter waves a hand towards the basement door, “decided we work better together and like being married.” 

 

“But don’t love?” Lydia questions, not the first time either. 

 

“We’re obsessed, close enough.”

 

* * *

 

_One Month Ago_

Peter was sitting with Lydia, playing a game of poker as he waited for Stiles to be done with another meeting. Ever since he and Stiles got married and combined the two families, every mob on the western hemisphere wanted to form a deal with them. And Peter, although a schemer, wasn’t one for mob politics. He’d rather just kill what’s the problem and then have fun at the nearest amusement afterwards.  Stiles used to be the same, until he took over the business fully (All of Talia’s children turned down the position and Peter never wanted it anyways). Now all he does is work, barely even gets his hands dirty. Not exactly the same boy who caught his eye all those years ago. 

 

“I’m leaving,” Peter said casually, causing Lydia to raise her brow in confusion. 

 

“Am I really beating you?” She says with slight surprise. 

 

“No, you’re not,” Peter replies before laying a royal flush, “I’m leaving Stiles.”

 

Lydia tosses her cards down revealing just a few ones and a jack. She then leans back and crosses her legs, her expression thoughtful as she continues to stare at Peter. 

 

 “You didn’t strike me as the sort who needs constant attention,” was all she said. 

 

“Yeah, well what can I say? I’m possessive,” Peter replies in a bored tone before taking off his ring and holding it up in the light. 

 

Maybe if he leaves for a few days Stiles will notice and come looking for him. Hopefully leaving destruction his his wake. Peter thinks about it too, a bloodied Stiles showing up in Peter’s hide away. His eyes dark, hand clenched as he tries to suppress his anger. Yelling at Peter, biting at him, showing off his anger and strength in a possessive way. The thought leaves Peter notably hard and that’s what cements his decision. 

 

“He’ll come get me, and maybe then we can play together again,” Peter says in a defiant tone. Standing up to put on his jacket and walk out the door. The wedding ring lays alone on the table shining in the light.  Lydia wonders if she should tell Stiles as soon as his meeting is over, but decides to stay out of his and Peter’s weird foreplay games. 

 

* * *

 

_ Now _

 

Both Peter and Stiles were laying on a warn mattress in the corner of the basement. They ignore the cold body ten feet away from them and ignore the smell of death that mixes with the smell of sweat and cum in the room. The only noise that fills the room is the sound of their breaths. 

 

Then finally. 

 

“Don’t leave me again,” Stiles says dully, his emotions done for the day after all the anger and bloodlust he went through. 

 

“Don’t be boring again,” was Peter’s reply. 

 

Stiles just stares silently at the stone wall in front of him. Logically he knows Peter doesn't love him, and probably never will. Logically he knows what they have isn’t healthy, and while Peter isn’t as ruthless as he used to be. More inclined to cause trouble these days through schemes and lies. Stiles should still be careful. 

But he doesn’t care, right now he’s okay with being played into killing people for Peter, even okay with torturing someone in his basement if it means Peter will stay. Love makes people stupid. He’s accepted that. 

 

Peter watches Stiles stare blankly at the wall. That blank stare he gets when he’s talking about the two of them. Peter knows Stiles loves him, and he gladly uses it to his advantage. Those people in Nevada City weren’t innocent. They were all people who were responsible for killing Stiles’ father, not that the boy knows it, as far as he’s concerned John died of a heart attack. That’s the lie that was told all those years ago, a lie that was created by Peter’s very own sister. 

 

Not that she got what she wanted, one of her children rising to run the empire, all of her kids are either dead- Laura- or in hiding - Derek and Cora. But again Stiles doesn’t need to know that. He just needs to know that tomorrow when he wakes up, he’ll find the five hearts sitting on his desk. Five hearts of the people who caused Stiles the biggest pain in the world. But also to represent the five years that they’d been married, a fitting anniversary gift.

 

Peter doesn’t believe in love. Never has, never will, but he does believe in potential and obsession. And with Stiles he gets both.    

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment and tell me what you think!


End file.
